Holding Pattern
by Bryony
Summary: Noin and Zechs begin their journey to Mars and (ahem) reacquaint themselves.


_standard disclaimers apply_

A/N: Cripes, another lemon! What am I turning into! *dies of awkwardness* Okay, this is kind of all over the shop and not really my best, but I want to have the guts of this story up somewhere and I don't see it getting much better than it is, so here we go. As with Graduation Eve, although this should stand alone, it also serves as smutty backstory to another fic I've been writing/angsting over for ages - one which, for better or for worse, should at long last be ready for posting shortly, and then I can finally stop tormenting everyone with it. :)

PS - On a completely unrelated note, hands up if you think Dorothy Catalonia would make kind of a perfect AC195-era Hedda Gabler? I'm voting yes.

**Holding Pattern**

by Bryony

They were en route already. Everything had happened so fast - Noin's head was still spinning from the little girl, Mariemaia's, proclamation, and fewer than one hundred hours later that rebellion was over, Zechs was back from the dead, and they were on their way to Mars. Together. It was the beginning of AC 197, and the beginning of a new life.

Noin took a deep, slow breath of recycled air and tried to relax. This felt like her first still moment in weeks, her first chance to wrap her head around - anything. Of course, this was only the beginning of their three-month journey to the Red Planet; no doubt she would be sick of thinking by the time they finally arrived.

Zechs appeared in the entrance to the cockpit and took a seat in the co-pilot's chair. "Hey," Noin greeted him when he failed to say anything. He nodded absently and they each stared out at the empty expanse displayed in front of them. "We're on our way."

"Any regrets?"

"No. You?"

He laughed shortly, a bitterly eloquent sound, and ignored the question. "Did you get word to your family, in the end?"

"I sent a message." She did feel guilty for not managing more - a visit, a video call - but what was there to say? Their expedited schedule left no time for more. They could brook no delays in their departure if they were to catch up to Mars' orbit without running out of fuel; the Terraformation team had even agreed to dispense with the 12-month training and probationary period for the two former Preventer officers, an exception Une had informed them they did not take lightly. Clearly the Director had called in some favors on their behalf.

Questions burned and died on Noin's lips now that they were alone and speaking of more than logistics, some concerned, some reproachful. In the end all she said was, "I have something for you." She went through the galley to her bunk and rummaged through her bag until she found what she was looking for, and brought it back through. "Here."

Noin set down a slim, somewhat battered, but recognizably ornate box in front of him. Zechs stared at it blankly for a moment, uncomprehending, then wordlessly reached out and touched the latch in front of him in recognition.

"You saved it," he murmured after a beat. "Thank you, Noin."

She waved his thanks away. "It was His Excellency. He sent it to me, after you were ousted from OZ, while I was in the Cinq Kingdom. He hoped I would be able to return it to you one day or, failing that, see it restored to its original home. I wish I'd had the chance to give it to you before now." It was the gentlest reproach that she could manage. "Shall we play?"

Zechs nodded and opened the box, removing the polished white and black men it contained and setting up the board. Noin watched the familiar motions, a smile on her face. She and Zechs had spent countless hours playing chess on this board, at the Academy. Until it had been delivered into her care with a hand-written note from His Excellency, she had thought she was the only one to know its significance: that it had come with Zechs from Cinq, the only physical reminder of his childhood that had stayed with him throughout his exile. She was so grateful to see it finally restored to him. She was so grateful to see _him_ again, alive. In that context, she scolded herself, surely questions about where he'd spent the last year didn't really matter.

The game lasted a mere forty-five minutes before Noin won a handy victory, taking out Zechs' queen and pinning down his king in quick succession. "You're out of practice," she remarked, "or did you let me win on purpose, to try and butter me up after being gone so long?"

She caught his eye and held it, refusing to look away even as the silence stretched.

"I don't have any explanation that will satisfy you, Noin," Zechs said at last.

"So I shouldn't ask."

He shrugged and didn't reply.

She let out an irritated sigh. There seemed to be nothing more to say. Zechs was unwilling to let her in and she - Noin didn't _need_ any explanations, didn't need Zechs to provide any kind of accounting of himself to her, she just didn't want to be treated as if she were the enemy. How many more times and in how many more ways could she tell Zechs that she was on his side?

She stood to go, but Zechs reached out suddenly and grabbed her hand. She gave him a questioning look; keeping a hold of her, he stood up too, planting himself deep in her personal space. Noin had to catch her breath as he leaned in to her.

"I missed you, Noin," he said, and seemed to mean it by way of an apology.

"I missed you, too," she murmured before he covered her mouth with his.

The immediacy of the heat that ran through her at Zechs' touch took her by surprise. This was no chaste kiss; this was an agenda. A rebellious part of her mind spoke out, that now was not the time, but she did not want to hear it. Now _was_ the time, because here it was.

"Oh, God," she had time to gasp before Zechs was on her again.

He backed her up against the wall, tangled one hand roughly in her hair to yank her head back and expose her neck while the other went to work directly between her legs. Unshaved stubble grazed against her jaw and sent a wild shiver down her spine. Letting out a groan, she reached for him, but he released his hold of her to shove her hands away and pin them above her head; her two wrists fit neatly into his hand. His eyes caught hers for a moment and they stared at each other, panting.

Gone was the tender gentleness of their first sexual encounter; this was power and dominance. This was desperation. Zechs was, Noin got the feeling, using her body as a means to other ends. If that was what he needed from her right now, she thought, she could give him that. She could surrender herself to him; she would. It was a frightening idea, but an exciting one as well.

"Do it," she whispered in challenge.

He spun her round and slammed her back up against the wall to strip her. They were both still wearing the spacesuits they'd put on for takeoff, and while the suits were not the old-fashioned bulky things of years past, they were nonetheless awkward to put on and pull off. Her skin was exposed inch by painstaking, determined inch.

The cabin air and the wall against which Zechs kept her pinned were cold against her overheated body, but she could feel Zechs' warmth behind her. Anticipation mounted in her as she waited, pliant and ready. Zechs had to release her to undress himself. Noin twisted her head around to watch him; Zechs met her eye and positively smirked. Momentarily abandoning his task, he closed the small distance between them to run a possessive hand up her naked spine and across her neck to clasp her chin. His thumb coasted over her cheek and lips, pressing hard against the swollen flesh. She opened her mouth and it dipped inside, exploring. Noin bit down gently, meeting the intruder with her tongue and teeth.

Zechs' eyes dipped shut and then he pressed himself against her, the weight of his body crushing the air from her lungs, his knee forcing her legs further apart. The hand cupping her chin forced her face up higher and she grunted against the discomfort as her neck bent fractionally further than it should. Zechs' breath stirred against her ear. "Do you want this, Noin?" he asked her. "Do you still want me, even like this?"

"…_Yes_," she whispered, helpless to say anything else.

The pressure of Zechs' body against hers vanished and Noin sucked in a greedy gasp of air. She thought for a moment that that was it - Zechs was standing so still, his back to her, apparently indifferent. But then he finished stripping off and turned to her again and Noin could see that he was hard. The sight of him moving towards her, naked and erect, sent a small electric tremor from her belly through her groin.

It was fully two years and then some since she'd seen him like this, bare skin beckoning for her touch, and she turned around and opened her arms to welcome him into them. When they came together it was so easily, so naturally, it was if no time had passed at all, although when Noin came to look back on it in time she would realize that it couldn't have been more different.

There were no words, few kisses. Zechs grabbed her by the hips and hoisted her up while she wrapped her legs around his waist. He plunged into her, slamming her back once more against the wall. He bit down on her shoulder hard enough to break the skin, clutched at her back, her ribs, her breasts, hard enough to bruise. One hand groped its way up to her neck and tightened there, not quite choking her, but signaling danger. It unnerved her, that hand squeezing her throat, but she didn't resent it; the adrenaline rush it induced heightened everything; she was balanced precariously on a knife-edge of clarity.

Zechs filled her, and it hurt, but the pain was so good that Noin just pulled him closer, deeper, harder until he tumbled her over the precipice into orgasm.

Afterwards she clung to him still, pressing her face to the curve above his collarbone. She released him only when she began to trust her knees again, feeling Zechs' softening cock slip out from inside her. "It's cold," she told him, "let's go to bed."

After a glance back toward the cockpit systems Zechs agreed and Noin led him to her bunk. They lay next to each other on the narrow mattress. Zechs trailed a finger from her cheek down to her hip and slept facing her. Noin stayed awake, listening with half an ear for any alerts coming from the cockpit, and feeling her heart beating in her chest. With each surge of blood through her arteries she wondered if this, finally, was what she had been waiting for.

When she knew she wouldn't sleep Noin rose and dressed and stowed their two discarded spacesuits in their lockers. She briefly checked things in the cockpit and then fixed herself something to eat.

Some time later, Zechs came through and joined her there, dressed in sweats similar to hers. He hovered awkwardly in the entrance to the galley, then sat down across from her. "Noin," he said, then stopped, hesitating. Her hands stilled over her food and she looked up at him. "This was a mistake. It won't happen again. I'm sorry."

Noin's lungs contracted in shock; the air went out of her, alongside her pride. "I see," she said carefully. She made herself breathe in, breathe out. She didn't voice the angry retorts that were hot in her mouth. She didn't want to say anything she might regret; she didn't want to be made into a fool; she wasn't sure where the path between the two lay. So she stayed silent; she breathed in, and she breathed out. Finally, for honesty's sake, she said only, "I feel differently. I care for you."

Zechs nodded stiffly. "I know."

"And don't you care for me, as well?"

He gestured impatiently, seeming to indicate the flat pointlessness of this. "There is nothing more that I can offer you."

"What have I asked for?" Noin searched his face, hoping to read some clue there, but it was as blank to her as if he'd been wearing his old mask. It seemed that time had brought them farther apart than she'd realized. She felt her first stab of fear that time would not be enough to close the distance between them again, either.

Zechs stood up, his movements precisely and savagely controlled. "Nothing," he replied. "You have asked me for nothing, and I can give you nothing." He left her; there was nowhere for him to go on the tiny craft, but Noin stayed where she was to give him what space she could. She pressed a fist to her forehead, trying to ground herself. The tentative hope she'd felt mere minutes ago was gone, replaced by chaos. Everything around her felt tinged with unreality; she worried suddenly that she might somehow float away if she wasn't careful.

Never mind, she told herself sternly. Never mind.

Time did pass, and they survived each other. Each day brought them marginally closer to their destination and to a semblance of their former camaraderie. Noin was still uncertain how to interpret Zechs' rejection, but she didn't press the issue. If all that Zechs wished or was capable of giving her was friendship, that was enough. Whatever happened between him and her, she had made her own choice and she intended to stand by it with pride. She found the days on the shuttle felt in a way like a return to their Academy days, which eased her troubled mind - as members of OZ during the war she had been Zechs' subordinate; now, as when they were children, they were once again simply equals.

Zechs, however, remained moody. He was restless, Noin thought, wondering about his purpose in life now that the war was over. He'd chosen Mars for his new mission, but it was still weeks away, and during the journey all they could do was mark time and stew in their own thoughts. It was a time for second guessing everything.

She wasn't surprised, therefore, when he came to her again in spite of his words. She wasn't surprised when she let him. There was something in it he needed, she thought, and her, too.

It seemed at the time that neither one of them could help it.


End file.
